


What Do You Really Want?

by Cantique



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Almost a rape, F/M, Spoilers, Timeskip, Violence, absolute unit, also felix is there, also hilda gets drunk, and claude had a big old crush, byleth got some extra personality, dimitri is an asshole, huge ass trigger warnings here, i didnt get this proofread im sorry, not a happy ending for old m8 dimitri lemme tell you, sylvain is a good boy deep down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-04 04:48:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20465267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantique/pseuds/Cantique
Summary: Dimitri is a monster. A beast. A demon. And for some reason, Byleth thinks that he will spare her.--HUGE CN for attempted non-con and Dimitri being unspeakably awful, followed by a bungled attempt at a redemption arc. Post timeskip, and then again for post game, so spoilers I guess.Wrote this on a whim and I have no idea why, I don't usually write this kinda thing but HERE WE ARE.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> \--- CN: ATTEMPTED RAPE ---
> 
> Yeah. Not what I usually write. Sorry if there's typos or mistakes, I haven't been sleeping well and I've been writing this while I'm awake.

"Get out."

Before Byleth had awoken, Dimitri had spent five long years thinking about what he'd say if she were with him. Five years of assuming her dead had given him a lot of time to think about the missed opportunities to talk to her, to let her know what she'd meant to him. Those moments where he held his tongue out of fear of his own feelings haunted him more than the ghosts if he found himself thinking of her for too long.

But she's not a ghost anymore. She's alive and breathing. And once again, she is in his quarters, begging him to eat something from the plate of food she's brought for him.

And, again, like all the other times, the only thing he can manage to say to her is "get out."

"No." She crosses her arms, not moving from her position next to the desk where Dimitri is hunched over piles of maps. The plate of food sits beside it on a spot she's managed to clear off, but he hasn't so much as glanced at it.

"I'm not in the mood for your games," he growls, scribbling something she can't make out over an illustration of a holding. "Get out."

She doesn't budge. "No, Dimitri. Not tonight. I'm not letting this continue."

His voice rises, as it does every night. This game she plays usually ends like this. She'll refuse to leave a few times and finally, after back and forth, he'll lash out and slam his hand on the desk, or shout at her, or throw the plate at the wall. Then she'll leave him alone, just like every other time.

"I said no," she replies, and as if scripted, Dimitri slams his fist against the desk with enough force to shake it. This time, though, she doesn't budge. "I'm not afraid of you, Dimitri. Stop telling yourself I am."

He freezes in place, his blood feeling like it's frozen in place. "I have warned you-"

"You'll what?" She asks, sounding absolutely exhausted. "Throw something again? Shout at me? Will you actually hit me this time? I've abided this behaviour because I thought you needed to process something, but it's become increasingly clear to me that you aren't even trying, are you?" She waits for a response they both know won't come. "Of course not. Go ahead, Dimitri. Come at me. I've had much more frightening men attack me before and you're no different."

He finally looks at her, and his blood runs from frozen to boiling. The way she's standing, the look of exasperation on her face -- she isn't afraid of him at all. Not that he wanted her to fear him... or he didn't used to, anyway. The old Dimitri would have been mortified at so much as the thought of it, neck deep in a school boy crush that embarrassed him to his core. A school boy crush that was just that until he saw the way Claude and Sylvain danced with her at the ball and it dawned on him that she was no more than a year or two his senior.

But he'd hesitated as he always did. He was a coward. And then she was dead, and he turned in to the kind of man who was furious at the sight of her treating him like a student rather than something to be feared.

"It's a mistake," he warns, pushing back his seat with a kick and quickly rising on his feet to stand before her, reminding her of how physically small she is compared to him, "to be anything but afraid of what I have done and will do."

"Come off it," she snaps, her absolute dismissal only serving to heat his blood more. "We've all had to kill people, Dimitri. I took you to battle as my students. I watched your classmates make their first kills. This new..." she gestures to him "...persona doesn't scare me. Death doesn't scare me."

"Then what does?" He asks. "What does scare you? You aren't a monster, surely something-"

"Losing you," Byleth interrupts. Something in her face changes and it nearly startles him, given how she's usually as stone-faced as he wishes he was. "I'm scared of losing you, Dimitri."

He pauses, uncomfortable, not knowing how to take this in. "That person is already gone."

She shakes her head. "No, he's not. I know you think that part of you is gone, and I know there's people who believe that, too. But I don't. You might think I can't, but I can see it in you, Dimitri. So I'll keep harassing you to eat, and I'll keep forcing you to let me bandage your wounds, and I'll keep following you on the field, because I don't want to lose you, even the way you are now." There's a cold, deafening silence. He can hardly look at her as she crosses the small space between them, and flinches at her touch when her hand comes to gently rest on the side of his face. "Please, let me care about you."

It's then that he feels her lips deliver a soft and short kiss to his own. Dimitri stands completely still, overloaded with thoughts. Has she always felt like this about him? Even the way he is, with the things he's done and said? He's seen the way Sylvain and even the traitor Ferdinand treat her, the way they care for her and admire her, men who have something left of them other than death and hatred. Men who would give her what the old Dimitri wanted for her, men who would never drag her down into the despair and ruin he found himself in. And here she is -- caring for him, kissing him... loving him. Is that what this is? Love?

That thought alone causes something to bubble up inside him, an unnamed emotion that he's felt before in his worst moments. How dare she? How dare she look at him, a monster, a beast, and _love_ him. To love something like him is monstrous in itself.

His hands grab her shoulders and he lurches forward, pushing her against the wall, Byleth giving a gasp on impact. "Me?" He asks, all but pinning her there before taking her kisses for his own. "Knowing what I've done? What I'm capable of?"

She grips at his armour for stability as she returns his affections. "Yes," she gasps between kisses, when he moves his head to turn his attentions to her neck, running her fingers through his hair once she's found her footing. "It doesn't change how I feel."

The unnamed feeling overtakes him like a wave that drowns him, and for a moment he stops moving.

"Fine."

He kisses her again, so ferociously that his teeth bump against hers. His hands find the neckline of her blouse, and before she can move, he tears it as far as he can. "Dimitri-" but he cuts off her protests when he all but throws her on to his bed. She protests again, but it's as though Dimitri is possessed by rage. Yes. That's it. Rage.

It's not lust. It's rage.

"Slow down," she gently requests, trying to sit herself up. He shoves her back down, and something about this seems to be the first indication that she's realising what's happening. He uses one hand to pin her to the bed, pressing on her sternum, and the other to unhook her belt as she squirms. Her movement proves to be a set back, the buckle of her belt slipping from his hand. Dimitri's solution is to move his hand from her sternum to her neck.

She stops moving, although she is still breathing. "Dimitri," she warns, her voice taking an entirely different tone. Gone are the sounds of her lewd coos, replaced by concern. "You're hurting me."

Hurting her. Her. The woman who looks at him, a beast, a demon, and _loves_ him. He's hurting her. He needs to show her what he's capable of. She needs to know what he is now. She needs to fear him, and she will.

"Good."

Immediately following his declaration, her squirming becomes full blown struggling. "Dimitri, no!" She tries to kick him off her, but he's already on top of her, trying to rip her trousers. "Stop!"

"This is what you wanted?" He all but bellows over her. "To love a demon? A murderer? A beast?"

"Dimitri, please-"

"What made you think," he begins, one hand around her throat and another moving to grip at her hair, forcing her to look at him, "that you would be spared?" To the disappointment of his rage, she scowls at him. Defiant as always. She has to learn. The ghosts need to warn her.

There's a crashing sound, and a blinding pain across the back of his head. He loses consciousness, and although it's for mere moments, it's enough for her to escape from underneath him. "Get back!" A third voice shouts as his vision comes back from darkness. He's still kneeling over the bed, his hand clutching at his own skill. "I'll kill you where you stand if you so much as move. I've been looking for an excuse."

He can hear Byleth gasping for breath, further away than before. "Felix," she calls between coughs. "Please, let's just go."

Felix ignores her. "I should kill you right now!" It's been years since Dimitri has heard him shout like that, and of all the people to make that threat, Felix is the most likely to follow through.

"Please!" She shouts again. "Felix, I just want to go. Please."

His vision returning, Dimitri can see her in the doorway, Felix in front of her, arms spread, sword at the ready. Smashed pieces of his chair surround them on the floor, and he can assume it's been broken over his back by his classmate. "You so much as look at her again and I'll gut you like the animal you are," he growls. For now, it's an empty threat -- Dimitri, even in his state, can tell that he's far more concerned with seeing to Byleth.

The door soon slams, leaving Dimitri to take in what he's done. What he just nearly did. As he watched Byleth leave he got a glimpse of it, what he'd wanted all this time -- fear in her eyes.

But he's alone now, and he will answer to the ghosts.

* * *

  
Her patience with him astounds him, even to this day. Despite everything he did to her, all he dragged her through, she still had the grace to bring him back from... that _thing_ he was.

It's a miracle that she's willing to be alone in a room with him, let along work with him to restore the Kingdom.

He sits with her in Garreg Mach, going over diplomatic updates and trade agreements, trying to ignore the memory of what he tried to do to her that night in his room. In a way, he had succeed, he supposed. He had set out to frighten her, and that he did, even for a second. That look in her eyes still came to him and would cause him grief in his darker moments.

"I'm meeting with Brigid's Trade Minister on the 27th," Dimitri announces, Byleth raising an eyebrow at this news. They've been struggling to reach an agreement for a while now, and if not for the help of Petra, this meeting wouldn't even be happening. "It would be beneficial if you joined us. The Royal Family are much more inclined to you than they are to me, and given that Petra is unable to attend-"

"Dimitri?" She cuts in, a gentility to her voice. "My wedding is on the 27th."

Silence drapes itself over the room like a thick, heavy blanket. "Of course," he laughs. "How thoughtless of me." That's a lie. Her upcoming wedding is in the forefront of his mind. "My apologies."

Byleth glances down at her maps. "I suppose this means you won't be attending." As regal and poised as she looks in her new finery, it does little to hide the tilt of her tone. It's somewhere between defeated and hurt.

"I..." Unsure how to respond, he trails off a little. What should he say? How could he explain this in a way that wouldn't make the already strained remains of their relationship worse? Dimitri glances at the engagement ring on her finger, a House Gautier heirloom, and feels that same familiar pang of jealously in his chest.

In a spectacular show of poor decision making and lack of self awareness, Dimitri had, after the war, proposed to Byleth. Following the incident in his room, she'd had not only the mercy to talk Felix out of retaliating, but had kept the situation quiet. She said there needed to be faith in Dimitri if Fodlan was to ever recover, and what he'd done to her would destroy that. Once Dimitri was back from the brink, he'd mistaken her kindness for forgiveness, and her patience for love.

Of course, she rejected him, and as gentle as she'd attempted to be, he could decipher a glint of what she was really feeling. Disgust. Anger. Hurt. He was foolish to even consider she'd truly ever forgive him, or that things would ever be the same. He'd retreated with dignity, promising he'd leave it be and never raise the subject again, licking his wounds with the idea that Byleth probably wasn't the type to take an interest in marriage, anyway.

And then, one day, he received a letter from the Church of Seiros inviting him to the wedding of the Most Holy Archbishop Byleth & Sylvain Jose Gautier. He can remember musing on it in silence, waves and waves of familiar old emotions washing over him as he tried to decided on a response. Would he attend and pay respects to his old friends, fulfilling his duty to keeping peace? Or would he refuse, spurning her as she had once spurned him?

He threw the invitation in the fire and promptly attempted to forget about it.

"It's ok. I understand," she says, dragging his mind back in to the room. "There is much to be done in Faerghus. We can celebrate later, when things are easier." She gives him a soft smile, and the sight of it causes one of those waves within him to crash.

"Why Sylvain?" He suddenly asks, the curtness of his tone even surprising him.

Her eyes snap up from the papers before her. "Excuse me?"

"Why him?" He asks again. "He never struck me as someone who'd appeal to you."

She frowns. "Do you really want to have this conversation?"

He nods. "Humour me."

Exhaling, Byleth closes her eyes and leans back into her seat. "He's always been kind to me, for one."

"Plenty of the men you know have been kind," Dimitri argues. "And none of them have been skirt chases like Sylvain."

"What is this about?" She asks, crossing her arms.

Dimitri shrugs, leaning his shoulders on to the table's surface. "As the King of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, it's my duty to voice concerns that I may have for the Archbishop's well being. I'm merely suggesting that having known Sylvain as long as I have, his previous behaviours regarding fidelity are cause for concern. Plenty of other men have shown much more of a suitable disposition."

"Oh?" She laughs, her eyes wide. "So I assume you have a suggestion for an alternative?" She locks eyes with him. "Go on, then. What husband could I take to please His Majesty?"

His jaw tenses. There's a sting to her sarcasm that's unfamiliar to him. "Ferdinand," he finally declares.

"You must be kidding."

"Ferdinand has always been fond of you," he argues, "he is loyal, diligent when it comes to his responsibilities, and understands the importance of duty. And the political benefits of such a marriage would be--"

"He's also been engaged to Petra since before the war even ended," Byleth snaps.

Dimitri freezes. Right. Of course. They told him that. "Well, what about... Lorenz?"

Byleth rolls her eyes at this suggestion. "Next you'll suggest I marry a rock." She gives a long sigh, shaking her head. "I'm not getting married because I have to, Dimitri. I'm getting married because I love Sylvain. And he loves me."

The silence looms again, Dimitri visibly uncomfortable. "Of course. Forgive me. I... just have a different impression of him."

"He's kind, honest, gentle, caring," she explains. "He sees the good in me and supports me." There's a brief pause, and she locks eyes with him once more. "He'd never hurt me."

Her words jar themselves in to his chest with the ferocity of a blade. She knows exactly why Dimitri is pressing this -- all this time and there's still no hiding from her ability to read his emotions. If he hadn't done what he did, they would have made a wonderful couple.

But he did do that, didn't he?

Dimitri holds his breath for a moment, pursing his lips before nodding, looking down at his hands. "I've been meaning to talk to you about that for some time." He doesn't want to watch her face, knowing it will revert to it's usual stone like expression. "I'm sorry for what I did." He pauses to momentarily grit his teeth. "It's not something I can ever heal, or take back, or undo, and I know it's stained your opinion of me permanently. But I want you to know that I know I did something to you that was... horrible. Abominable. I know you have to abide me for the good of the Kingdom, and I don't ever expect your forgiveness or acceptance as a close friend. But... I just want you to know that."

He's apologised again and again for what he did to her, how he tried to hurt her, and he never seems to find the right words. Or the right time. Or anything. How do you really apologise for something so horrific? For doing something so evil to the only person who was willing to love you? He lifts his head, dreading her reaction.

Byleth is silent for a moment, but she eventually gives a very curt nod. "Let's just stick to the trade agreements, shall we?"

He wonders if, maybe, one day, with enough work, he can prove through actions and deed that he really is sorry. That he really has changed. That he'd never do that again. But Dimitri knows that's unlikely. In the throws of his darkest hours during the war, all he wanted was for her stop caring for him, to stop trying to pull him back together and rescue him. He wanted her to leave him to suffer.

Dimitri had, in the end, got what he wanted.


	2. A Royal Screw Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ding dong dimitri continues to be wrong
> 
> Byleth gets married and everyone has a wonderful time except king shithead.  
This one is pretty safe to read. :)

If not for the insistence of Ingrid, Dimitri would not be here. The reception hall is full of people, many faces familiar, many more unfamiliar. He's only able to focus on one, though.

Byleth is absolutely radiant. Of course she is. It's her wedding, after all. But even knowing this, he's fixated on her. The sight of her is breathtaking -- the way she smiles, how she looks in her wedding dress, the way her up-do exposes her neck to him for the first time. There's something about her face, as well. Make up? She must be wearing make up. Her eyes are so much more distinguished, and he can see the warmth of her cheeks even from where he sits, numerous rows back from the bridal table.

The sight of Sylvain, however, snaps him back to reality. She's beautiful, yes, but she's not marrying Dimitri today. She's marrying Sylvain.

And, honestly, everyone else seems to be thrilled. Hilda is drunk on champagne, the maid of honour dancing up a storm with anyone she can take the arm of. Claude, visiting from Almyra, has found himself surrounded by old classmates and friends, telling them of all his travels. Sylvain's best man, Felix, seems mostly content -- his own wedding to Annette will be the next one, and knowing him, he's treating this as a learning experience.

Still, whenever his eyes happen to meet Dimitri's, they turn stone cold, Felix's face tensing. Where Dimitri and Byleth had repaired their relationship purely to fill the needs of Fodlan at large, Felix had never forgiven the King, and things had never improved. Dimitri's shoulders tense and he looks down in to his cup, deeply uncomfortable at the thought of his old friend knowing what he did. He wonders who else in the room knows -- he hasn't thought about that before.

He wonders how much longer he must stay in order to keep up appearances. Hilda has already tried to drag him on to the dance floor with her once, and he counts his blessings that the lively, tavern-style music was to Raphael's liking. He's distracted Hilda enough to allow Dimitri a quiet escape -- dancing is out of the question as it is, and while he enjoys Hilda's company, he's struggling with the guilt that comes with being around so many of the Golden Deer. It seems like not long ago he was stomping about like an animal -- a boar, as Felix would put it -- wanting nothing more but to murder them for being complicit, not doing enough, getting in his way... Whatever reason his demons could come up with at the time. He's learned to treat the 'ghosts' as an illness, as an injury to his mind as a result of the tragedy he experienced. To his credit, with help from wise council, he's built on that idea and has struggled a lot less.

Byleth was the first one to tell him that his ghosts were a symptom of a sickness. It was during the war. She was trying to get him to eat again.

He threatened to murder her and threw the bowl of hot soup at her head.

A hand gentle slaps down on to his shoulder, snapping him out of thought. "Your Highness," Claude begins, all but throwing himself down in to the seat beside Dimitri. "I was originally told you'd be in Brigid this week."

"Yes," Dimitri says with a nod, trying to figure out when Claude was able to break away from his audience. "That was the plan, originally, but it was decided that the meeting would be postponed until Petra was able to attend." A half truth -- that was what originally had actually suggested to the Brigid Trade Ministry. On a personal level, his real motivation had been that he was afraid to be absent from Fodlan in case... well, he wasn't sure what it was he was anticipating, but he knew, deep down, that it was probably part of a fantasy.

"Of course," Claude agrees. "Absolutely nothing to do with saving face, either." This unexpected barb stings Dimitri, and he's unsure how to respond. That being said, he's not surprised, either. This is Claude he's speaking to. Claude exhales, his hand resting against the handle of his own cup as he watches the bridal table. "Who'd have thought that Sylvain the lady-killer would beat us both out, huh?"

Dimitri, who'd been half way through a mouthful of his drink, gave a sudden cough. "I'm sorry," he stammers quietly, "I don't know-"

"Save it, Dimitri," Claude cuts in, his voice low, affording Dimitri a surprising amount of discretion. "I had letters from Hilda to go off during the war. If she was able to see it..." he chuckles to himself. "Besides, I saw the way you looked at her during our school days. You might have hidden it from everyone else, or they might have been oblivious, but it didn't get past me. Not when I looked at her the same way."

Dimitri has questions, of course, but one is more pressing than others. "What did Hilda tell you?"

"Enough for both of us to know what was happening," he explains with a shrug. "Byleth taking you meals every night, forcing you to get medical attention... buuut," he says, taking a pause to glance directly at Dimitri, a knowing look on his face. "I think that Byleth crying to Hilda about your little break up was what _really_ tipped her off."

Dimitri's stomach nearly twists itself to the point of ripping at hearing this. Did Hilda know? Had she told Claude what Dimitri had done to Byleth? Of course she would have -- if Hilda knew, so would half the Kingdom. "Our break up?"

"Yeah," Claude explains. "Don't know what happened, but Hilda told me that whatever it was shook Byleth right up. Your Highness must have royally screwed up." Claude pauses again, but this time it's longer as he mulls over what he wants to say. "Up until that point, I really thought she'd follow you anywhere. You really had a way with her, even back before the war. I don't think I ever had a shot."

He can feel his shoulders relaxing a little. As confrontational as this conversation is for him, he can at least take peace in knowing that Byleth had kept the specifics to herself. Dimitri can't help but feel something about that thought. What an awful thought to have. How selfish. "You too, huh?" He asks, trying to keep the conversation going in the hopes of distracting himself from... himself.

Claude laughs openly at this. "Of course. How could I not?" He covertly nods his head towards Byleth, who still sits at the bridal table, now entirely focused on her new husband. "Look at her. There's something about her, you know? And I've always had a thing for women who take the reins." He shakes his head, leaning back in his seat. "I thought I might still have a chance, even though she picked you guys... and then I caught her making that wish with you at the Goddess Tower."

"You saw that?" He asks.

"Dimitri, I'd asked her to dance the first dance with me. Of course I was going to follow her and try to get a moment with her when she snuck out." Claude shrugs once more, this time smiling at Dimitri. "But by the time I caught up with her, you'd beat me to it, again."

"I honestly had no idea," Dimitri muses, a bit of a smile creeping on to his face, a small remainder of the competitive streak between the two emerging in his mind again. Although, this time, he was more humbled by it than anything.

"Well," Claude says with a deep breath, "we were younger and dumber back then. Don't know what I'd thought would happen," he laughs. "Not like she would have ravished me by the Goddess Tower."

To even Dimitri's surprise, this elicits a chuckle from the King. "Is that what you thought would happen?"

"Like I said," replies Claude with his trademark, wisecrack grin, "we were younger and dumber." The two share a moment of silence together, sitting side by side and drinking from their cups. After a few moments, Claude gently slaps Dimitri's shoulder once more. "Try to loosen up a little, hey?" He suggests, beginning to rise from his seat. "Hilda didn't write so much about you because she was worried about Byleth." He gives the surprised King a knowing grin, nodding and moving on to the next audience waiting for his attention.

Dimitri can't help but watch Hilda dance about, this time with a visibly uncomfortable Ashe. Hilda saw something in him, too? He immediately shakes his head. No. The last woman to make that mistake... Dimitri isn't that man anymore, but he doesn't yet trust himself, and the thought of that disgusts him.

He finishes his drink, rising from his seat and deciding to return to his accommodations. While he's actively avoiding the bride, Sylvain has begun to socialise his way around the hall, making this the perfect opportunity to give his best wishes and then sneak out.

Dimitri approaches Sylvain, who's currently having a very animated conversation with Mercedes -- another face that Dimitri hasn't seen since the war. "Dimitri!" Sylvain exclaims, all but grinning from eat to ear. "I didn't think your royal stuffiness would have time to come to such an ordinary affair." Many things have changed about Sylvain, it's true, but his sense of humour and willing to make fun of Dimitri remain the same.

Dimitri gives a polite laugh. "I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Congratulations, old friend."

"Old friend?" Sylvain laughs. "Aw, come on, Dimitri. I was actually hoping that we'd be seeing more of you once things settle a little. I mean," Sylvain glances at Mercedes, who returns his smile with averted eyes. Like she knows something Dimitri doesn't. "At least settled for you."

"Of course," he replies, trying his best to be genuine in his response. "I assume that as things settle, I'll have plenty of things to work with the church on."

Sylvain, still grinning, glances at Mercedes again. "Well, I'd get in soon. Won't be quiet at Garreg Mach for long."

"I'll do my best to visit as soon as I'm able. There's a lot of work to be done to smooth relations with Brigid."

"Think you can finish it up in nine months?"

At this, Mercedes' eyes widen and she claps her hands over her mouth. "Sylvain!" She snaps from behind her hands. "What did she tell you about keeping this a secret?!"

"What?" He shrugs, before nudging a bewildered Dimitri. "Come on, Dimitri's a special case. I think I'm allowed to tell the King, of all people!" He gives his friend a wink, seemingly blind to the absolute shock on his face.

"I... uh..." Dimitri realises he's doing everything in his power to not instinctively glance at Byleth from afar, lest she spot him and figure out what's going on. "Congratulations are in order, then." It's all he can muster.

"You mustn't tell anyone!" Mercedes insists, taking a tone that's unusually firm for her. "If anyone were to find out, the sanctity of her position..."

"You need not worry," Dimitri assures her. Of course he won't tell anyone. Even if he wanted to, it's not exactly like there's anyone he'd really want to talk to this about. "I can understand the importance. Consider it a diplomatic secret."

"You gotta come visit before the baby comes," Sylvain continues. "For one last hurrah before I'm occupied for the next 18 years. I'll invite Ingrid and Felix, too! Just like old times."

"Y-yes." Dimitri hopes to the Goddess that he's not visibly as uncomfortable as he's feeling. "I'll be there." A lie. There is no way that anything good will come from forced interaction between Dimitri and Felix, although he supposes that Felix would argue Dimitri's death to be overwhelmingly positive. "I apologise, but would you excuse me for a moment? This cloak is quite cumbersome and I think I'd best leave it in my room rather than take it off here and forget about it." Another lie. Dimitri has zero intention of returning, although he doubts Sylvain or anyone else will really notice.

He bids the groom farewell and proceeds to make his was to his lodgings. In Dimitri's case, this is his old room. The perfect place to reflect on how a King could, with so many things, as another wise Ruler had put it: royally screw up.


	3. The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some slight variations to in story canon here (ie there's stuff pulled from the Golden Deer path and kind of merged in to one big timeline) but whatever, it's fanfiction and it's anarchy in here and you aren't my dad

"And things with Brigid?" Byleth asks, her pen ready to take notes. Dimitri has been avoiding this meeting for six months. He's been avoiding anything and everything to do with her, actually. However, he's only been able to hold off for so long. News has come to light about Byleth, and it's... concerning.

"We need to discuss what Sylvain said about-"

She glances up at Dimitri, an eyebrow raised, expression cold. "Not what I asked," she snaps. "If you're going to shirk your responsibilities for six months, you'll need to allow me to catch up before talking about things that aren't any of your business."

He wants to argue this. It's entirely his business. If it's true? It's almost everyone's business. But he knows arguing will only further remove him from her graces. "The agreements have been signed and finalized," he responds, his jaw tensing. "Legislation will become active by Blue Sea Moon."

"Right." Dimitri has never really anyone write angrily before, but there's a first time for everything. It seems that every stroke of her pen is an outlet for anger that she's trying to contain. "And you only decided to tell me about this today. Excellent."

"I... apologize." It's all he really knows how to offer.

"I'm sure you do."

For a moment, Dimitri considers dropping the conversation. But he can't. "Please," he insists, "is it true?"

"It's none of your business."

"It's my duty!" Dimitri's voice raises, causing her to flinch a little. "I have a duty to protect the Church of Seiros, and if it is true that you're the..." he trails off. "It means your child is of incredible importance. Resources will need to be redirected to better protect the Monastery."

She sets down her pen, sitting back in to her seat and giving a defeated exhale. "It's true. The Progenitor God, Seiros, Red Canyon. All of it." She pauses. "And frankly, I'm still upset that Sylvain told you anything."

Sylvain, had, in a moment of weakness and panic during a visit to Faerghus, told Dimitri everything he knew about his wife's recent revelation. She harbored the Progenitor God, who, according to what Sylvain relayed, was the mother of Seiros herself. This was the reason behind Byleth's lack of heartbeat and why Rhea had accepted her so quickly. It was also why Rhea had been so quick to declare her the new Archbishop, and it explained why her Crest was relatively unheard of. And all of a sudden, the 'miracle' that had brought her back to them after five years didn't seem like such a miracle. "Well," Dimitri argues, "it was a lot to place on him so suddenly. I question why you didn't tell him something so monumental beforehand."

Byleth crosses her arms. "He wouldn't know at all if I'd been able to help it," she says, shaking her head. "Rhea was the one to tell him, actually."

"Really?" Dimitri raises an eyebrow.

She nods, closing her eyes, clearly exhausted at so much as the memory of it. "She came to us under the guise of a visit and then decided to tell Sylvain everything over dinner. She said he had a right to know."

Dimitri sits silently, running his hand through his hair. So this whole time, he'd been fighting beside a... "So you're a Goddess, then?" he asks.

"In a way." She shrugs. "I don't really feel any different, and it's not as though I have the same kind of powers."

"But... you _do_ have something, don't you?" He asks. "The time thing. Sylvain seemed unable to explain it."

"I could change the flow of time," she confirms, "but it's not something I like to do. It doesn't feel right. Honestly, it's been so long since I've tried that I don't even think I can do it anymore."

"I see." There was an abundance of questions, of course. Why didn't she use it more? Why didn't she use it to stop Edelgard? To prevent this war? Why didn't she stop him from doing everything he did? But one seems to spill out. "Why didn't you ever tell me any of this?"

Byleth gives a shocked laugh. "Are you joking? I barely knew the details myself, and even then..."

"We could have saved so many," he interrupts. "You had this power? And never once did you think to share it?"

"It doesn't always work the way you think it will," she explains. "Every action has a consequence."

"Then what did you change?" He asks. "Tell me. Please."

"Dimitri--"

"Please," he snaps. There's distress in his voice. "I want to know what could have been different. I need to know."

She spends a time staring him down, her hand resting on her pregnant belly almost protectively. He knows he's making her uneasy, but there's little he can do to control what emotion's able to escape. "I mostly used it during battle," she finally relents. "Small things to save allies from major injury, from death. Annette fell the most, and I could never bare the thought of moving on without her. Every time I used it, though, I'd physically pay a price for it. It had to be done sparingly." She pauses. "The biggest thing I changed was saving you from Edelgard."

Dimitri pauses. "What do you mean?"

"The first time we fought The Battle of Gronder Field," she begins, her eyes fixating on her own hands, "you fell. You caught sight of Edelgard and charged in. So I went back to the beginning of the month. I was exhausted, but I thought if we had more numbers, I could at least fight by your side -- so I reached out to Claude, and he brought who he could. It worked for a time, but..." she shakes her head. "It worked too well. Edelgard retreated. You chased after her and got separated, and her men..." Byleth squeezes her eyes shut. "I still have nightmares about the way they all drove their spears through you. There were so many that they held you up, even though you were completely lifeless. So I went back again. And again. And again. As far back as I could manage, and this time, I focused on you. I didn't reach out to anyone, I just tried to bring you back as best I could. We needed you, all of Fodlan."

"Which explains your focus on my health," he explains.

"Well, that and I was in love with you." The way she says this is shocking to Dimitri. She says it so matter-of-factly, like it means nothing. Or rather, like it meant nothing. "Regardless, you survived. So here we are -- in that time line."

He processes this to the best of his ability. "Rodrigue..."

"If he survived, you died."

"But you stopped the first time I survived!" He argues. "You could have tried again, found a way to save both of--"

"You tried to rape me, Dimitri."

She may as well have reached over the desk and slapped him. It's like his mind has been suddenly wiped of whatever was previously preoccupying it, and now all he can focus on is one thing.

"You'll have to forgive me if I'd reached my limit of what I'd allow you to put me through."

He suddenly wants to look anywhere in the room but her, instead settling for the edge of her desk. "...I... what I did was..."

"No, Dimitri." She sits up in her seat, suddenly at full attention. "I won't sit here and allow you to behave like you're somehow a victim in this any longer."

"I've never-"

"Stop. Just stop," she cuts in. "I'm not an idiot, Dimitri. Every time you speak to me, you find some way to make it a moment for you to offer me yet another apology. And you know what? I'm never going to accept it because I know for a fact you don't fully understand the gravity of what you did to me. I trusted you so much," she slaps her palm against the top of her desk as she says the last few words for emphasis. "More than anyone else around me, Dimitri. Even when you were sick, I trusted you to do the right thing, I trusted you to not hurt me! And what did you do? You did exactly the opposite."

Dimitri is a large man, and while he physically dwarfs Byleth, he can feel himself all but shrinking before her anger. "I know. But that's not the man I am anymore."

"It doesn't change what you did to me," she says. "Sure, you're back to 'yourself' now, but I still look at you and see what you did to me, and I know there's something in there capable of it. You come to me so sweetly now, like nothing happened, like that was something I can just 'get over.' But you seriously underestimate the power behind what you did. That night you tried to throw some that ring at me to placate me? I looked at your face and felt sick. I used to have nightmares about Edelgard's men driving their spears in to you, but after what you did? I have nightmares about you pinning me to that bed. And you have the audacity to come in here and offer apology after apology.

You know I'll never accept it, Dimitri. You know it will never undo what you did. You only apologize so you can feel sorry for yourself when I refuse to forgive you, so you can feel like a victim of your own actions! I have have given you mercy by keeping what you did to me from our friends and loved ones so that you can rule peacefully and with a little bit of the dignity you attempted to strip from me, and you still try to take, and take, and take from me. It's disgusting, and unfitting of a King!" Dimitri is genuinely taken aback by this. She's shouting at him. He's never seen her this explosively angry before.

She withdraws herself back in to her seat, looking away, turning her head to gaze out the window. She's holding back tears, but Dimitri dare not say a word about them right now.

The two sit in complete silence for an absolute eternity before Byleth finally begins to gather her notes, avoiding looking at him at all. "I assume you have no other diplomatic matters to report?" She asks.

He shakes his head, his voice almost a whisper, a slight croak to it. "No."

"Good." She stands, collecting the last bits and pieces. "Given my condition, I'd like to request you bring all non urgent military and diplomatic matters to the attention of Seteth from now on."

"It would seem that's for the best." He stands as well, purely as a sign of respect, but she ignores this completely.

"It would also be for the best if we only discuss matters pertaining to the future of Fodlan from now on, Your Highness." Hearing her forgo his name stings. "Any personal matters can be directed to my husband from now on." She gives a polite nod before quickly making her way out of the room, not so much as giving him a glance.

Dimitri isn't sure how long he stands around the office in silence, completely broken, but it's long enough for Dedue to eventually find him. "Your Highness," he announces before entering the room. "There you are! The Archbishop tells me you've decided we'll be leaving the Monastery tonight, is that correct?"

It isn't. Dimitri decided no such thing. The plan was that he'd stay in the Monastery for three days, as he had with all his diplomatic visits. Byleth, however, seems to have made this decision for him. "Yes," he replies. "I'm sorry that our plans have changed so suddenly."

"There's no need to apologize, Your Highness," he replies. "I'll ready the horses at once and we should be ready to depart within the hour." Dedue gives his standard polite nod and exits, the sound of his footsteps indicating that he entirely planned on sticking to the definition of 'at once.'

Dimitri takes what he assumes will be the last look at her office for a while before following suite, exiting and making his way to the stables as fast as possible, trying to avoid the eyes of those he passes. For the first time since the war, he feels like an absolute beast. And for the first time since the war, he fully believes that he deserves it, knowing that despite Byleth speaking nothing but truth and cutting to the heart of the matter, he will still always, deep down and selfishly, pine for her. And he will always, selfishly, long for a return to a time where he was deserving of anything but her hatred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you really thought i was gonna let dimitri come back from this: have a little more faith in me, eh?


End file.
